Make the Fireflies Dance
by Juvia Loxar
Summary: A late Halloween present for all you guys...inspired by my school's own Costume Party...RaeRob. DISCONTINUED.


**Well, a late Halloween present for all you guys out there. Sorry for the delay, my computer's being a bitch and broke down when I needed it most. **

**Before I forget, I do not own Teen Titans…**

**And of course, this goes out to: **alena-chan, Tecna,Darkofthenight,Calda Pesca492, Aurora812, BigBlackWoman, **and** baby blue ice cream.

**Well, here ya' go…**

**Chapter 1: Bohemian Catastrophe**

"Stupid fireflies!"

One could vaguely wonder why such things of peculiar wonder and beauty would approach such a similarly epitome of peculiar wonder and beauty, only to be shunned away by harsh words.

Especially on a night seemingly dubbed to be Hallow's Eve, a young girl of fifteen feistier than Mata Hari herself, dressed as a gypsy, would seem alluringly eerie; as she was on the run as if the devil himself was on her heels.

Raven Roth couldn't just get over the fact that she had to be at her school's costume party. Not a Halloween party, but a costume party. And for a picky girl like herself, it would be difficult what to wear.

Not too long, not too short…Not too tacky, not too cheesy…Seems like the only thing that could at least satisfy her expectations was her mother's garb, which consists of a loose peasant blouse showing of her shoulders and a long black ruffled skirt complete with the bohemian laces and itsy bitsies.

Of course, to really convince most of the student body, if not all that she was indeed a gypsy, the violet-haired teen mustered up all her courage to find the confidence to wear a printed red scarf as a headband, dangling chandelier earrings, two chokers, an amulet and two long necklaces with the pendants gracing her abdomen. Let's not forget the bangles on both wrists, the number reaching not past five, but not less than fifteen.

Being the anti-social activist she was, she opted not to finish the bohemian facade with her feet, it's not as if somebody could see beneath her skirt, right? So instead of donning the ballet flats with the golden embroidery and trims, plus the assurance that she can't lift her skirt up high that anybody would mistake her for a tomboy, which she was by her actions without her obvious realization that is, she wore sneakers.

Which proved useful, considering that she was running late. Certainly a typical goth like her wouldn't dare be such in a hurry for a school affair that would do more harm than intended to her self-esteem. But no, punctuality says otherwise for reporters of the school paper.

Raven wrinkled her nose in deep thought and snorted at the fact that she was assigned to this particular task of writing a news article. Still shunning the fireflies away from her face, she almost squealed when one of the dozens surrounding her landed on her head, setting itself comfortably on the many braids a sophomore, Kory, worked on giddily like a schoolgirl just minutes ago.

The sound of blaring music merged with the chilly atmosphere of the night, and she never thought she would be ecstatic enough to be met with the sight of the three-storey building which happens to be glowing like a dance club.

At least she made it…at least the fireflies weren't bothering her anymore…at least she had a few hours left to get this all over with.

Clutching the sides of her sling bag she felt the rough leather come in contact with her fingertips. Suppressing a sigh she proceeded towards the registration table, all the way towards the auditorium.

No sooner when she walked past the entrance, she definitely cursed under the breath as her eyes set themselves on the Smithson community – students, teachers, staff, alumni, and almost everyone associated with anything the Elliot Smithson Academy of Jump City.

What a sight for sore eyes…the sea of reds, blues, greens, every hue in between the colors of the rainbow…Plus the mere glimpse of sweaty bodies grinding against each other, howls and hoots in synch with the beating of the DJ's songs, too much merriment was enough to run her sanity low.

Still rooted to her spot at the entrance, utter shock pulsed against every sense that she desperately tried to keep calm, cool, and collected. What really convinced her that it was Halloween was the sudden notion of entering in a bizarrely strange alternate twilighty-kind-of zone wherein even the teachers – dictators of the classroom/masters of the chalk/bearers of the dreaded metal rulers and laser pointers – were doing the Congo.

Cue in surprise number 2.

"Hey! You made it!"

The girl almost lost her balance as she gasped bracing for the impact, just as her amethyst orbs closed to their own accord, only to be caught by a pair of familiar hands gripping her shoulders.

"Hehehe, Halloween really does show off your true colors, eh Rae? Paranoid hippie comes to mind, in your case," She'd recognize that smug tone anytime…mouthing the name of the voice's owner as she fluttered her eyes open, she pushed his hands away.

"Richard!"

Feeling once more that pounding feeling against her rib cage, she suddenly felt light-headed and breathless, more so by meeting the sight of who she would call her best friend.

"By day, you mean," Yet, the ever so famous smirk graced his features while Raven took the time to process his usual cockiness. "Refer to me as Zorro, senorita. Hush, for you do not want my enemies to know who I really am, no?" The boy added, showing off that mischievous glint in his cerulean orbs, hinting the mocking humor in his voice.

"Oh no, I think I'd better shut my pie hold, I do not want my hero to die in vain!" She mused in melodramatic fakeness. Leading him inside, she could only roll her eyes all the while trying to avoid Richard so being full of himself as ever. Besides, dry sarcasm couldn't possibly distract him from 4/5 of the seniors scantily clad in a merge of cocktail dresses, leather chic articles, or micro minis…

As an initial reaction to Richard's drool literally seeping from his hanging jaw, she smacked his head with the back of her hand, taking a seat at one of the chairs nearby, "Why am I here again? Oh yeah, somebody's too lazy to write a news article about the Elliot Smithson Academy Costume Party himself so apparently why not assign to somebody who doesn't even give a damn!"

Plopping down on the seat beside her, Richard crossed his legs then folded his arms across his chest, almost as if mocking her stance, he mused in a high-pitched tone, "Well somebody needs to have more fun so that somebody won't grow old living with twenty-seven cats in her house!"

Grabbing him by his collar she eventually took time to look at his costume, which consists of an all-black ensemble: long-sleeved polo, slacks, and the tacky hat-mask-and-cape fiasco, up close, she cried "You think I'm having fun sitting here while I wait for this stupid party to be over?"

Noticing for the first time how well-built he was underneath the clothes, Raven quickly let go just as she felt a blush creep up to her cheeks. She eventually had to thank the lights out for the save.

But her sigh of relief was cut short when Richard burst out laughing…and leaned in closer to her face…added in a hushed tone, with all seriousness…while she was cursing her stupid heart for beating faster…

"Gypsy? Not a very sexy choice, Rae…"

"Well I'm sure you'd look better in a peasant blouse and long skirt."

"Do I always? I assure you I'd look good with anything on."

"A tutu best suits you, showing off those hairy legs would be perfect."

"Whatever turns you on…"

"Are you hitting on me?"

With that both pulled away from each other, letting the party distract them for a while. Her entire body heaving with waves of queasiness, she never thought the twenty-six-year-old auditorium would look newly built with the black and orange crepe paper dangling against the swaying jack-o'-lanterns…and with the added effect of the disco ball emanating neon reds, blues, and greens against everything the lights come in contact with.

Feeling guilty for causing the uneasiness between the both of them, she looked over to the boy at the corner of her eye. After all, she's used to him being so egoistical; a little malicious when it comes to a little here and there, but he's still her best friend, right?

"So…" She found herself say, unable to think of anything else, as her mind was void of anything to be an object of conversation.

"We're being silly aren't we?" Richard said it so gently that Raven swore she could feel waves of compassion projecting from him. Deciding that she definitely isn't used to him being so un-Richard like, she was more comfortable having an idiot than a complete gentleman as her best friend.

"Depending on the definition of 'silly' –" She was cut short when the manifestation of all pain and annoyance jumped in front of them, in the form of none other than the class clown of the freshmen.

"All right! Roth came as a Romanian prostitute!" The boy quipped, slapping his lap in a hill billy gesture of amusement.

"Logan," Raising an eyebrow, along with the appropriate amount of fingers; she could tell the 13-year-old boy was intimidated by the gleam of her pools of amethyst, reflecting that of the calculating fury of a predator about to strike, "Two words. Ripped. Puppies."

"What?" As it turns out, Richard was the first one to react. Oblivious to what has transpired, both males turned to her in utter confusion, only to be led away by the owner's fingers towards a slit near the buttocks of Garfield's pants, providing a glimpse of puppies on the exposed 1/10 of his printed boxers.

Just as 'Zorro' fell off his chair laughing his ass to kingdom come, 'the werewolf' cried an "Eep!" then scampered to the safety off the men's comfort room, his hands clasped firmly on his behind.

"Serves you right." Raven jeered, a smirk playfully tugging at her lips.

"Come on, nobody really takes him seriously. At least he makes me look like a saint." The comfort beneath all that humor was enough to take her mind off everything else, and the sneer faded into a facsimile of a smile as Richard went on, "He just wanted to cheer you up."

"Yes, he was supposed to make me laugh by having a staring contest with my breasts."

"I think your butt's better to look at. That way, you can't catch him red-handed," he chuckled, fidgeting with the gloves on his hand.

"Three more hours to go," Raven murmured, her gaze drifting down to the silver watch snug loosely on her wrist.

"Come on, you need to enjoy more, have fun ya' know?"

"I can have fun in more ways than one…and streaking and strip poker are out of my league."

"What's life without taking chances?"

"I'll take the chance to live instead if you must know…"

"Ha-ha, Rae, always the kidder," Richard laughed weakly, playfully punching her arm.

"Dick. Make sure to get some killer photos, this party's gonna make the headlines!" An unfamiliar voice rang in Raven's ears, rivaling against the loudness of the upbeat music playing Usher's 'Yeah.'

Both teens turned to the owner, only to be met by Roy Harper, senior desk editor of the school paper, dressed in what seemed to be a recreation of half-and-half: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

"Well, duty calls. Better not let me catch you dancing your skirt off while I'm gone," Richard quipped, winking an eye through the mask then clicking his tongue.

Sarcasm would surely get the best of Richard being the airhead he is, but seeing it was useless, she sulked in her seat. Partly thankful she didn't have to face his ego, yet seemingly empty was the other half, having lost company, for she did not intend on mingling with the other students.

Which was why majority of Elliot Smithson Academy found it blasphemy that a boy of Richard Grayson's social background would never associate himself with a girl even goths won't even dare to ask for a lunch invite with.

Imagine the cause and effect of being Class President, Most Valuable Player for Basketball, Baseball, Soccer, and Chess, not to mention consistent awardee for Citizen of the Month, then enjoying the company of a girl who make goths look like social climbers.

It's not even mere association, but more of a bond of friendship that could even raise more eyebrows and questions like 'What's he doing with her?'

Although both never cared, it is a sudden crisp to the never ending gossips spreading around; say, Raven being a witch to seduce Richard into performing an ancient ritual to wreck havoc upon the world, or Richard a playboy, out to use and abuse Raven's heart…and the like…

And one would never expect, that by the way they treat each other in public, Raven and Robin really are the best of friends. How they came to be was never really dealt on, especially the issue on the friendship's origin itself. It's even one of the mysteries Halloween might surely unlock, whether or not the fact remains constant.

And yet, they've come a long way…and Richard does deserve to be her best friend, no matter what they say.

Thinking about a certain pair of sky-colored orbs coaxed her hand to immediately shoot up to a certain part inches above her chest, only to find it missing…

"Shit."

Even if losing a piece of her jewelry ensemble won't even make a difference that may have been more of a sentimental value. A girl like Raven Roth wouldn't dare to find solace in a silver necklace, more so having the pendant as a tiny amethyst within a pair of wings.

But Richard had given it to her as a gift when they were 9, it would be a shame to even lose something that cost him almost his entire life savings.

Panicking, she stood up suddenly, only to be met by a puddle of sweet-smelling liquid splash against her face, hearing the aftermath of a paper cup that fell to a soft thud on the ground, amidst Green Day's 'American Idiot' resounding against the background.

"Hmmm, raspberry."

Somehow, this night couldn't get much worse. With that thought accompanied by a sigh, Raven licked the sides of her lips as an amusement to somehow distract herself from the bad luck she's been having lately.

If Garfield Logan would most likely make a career just by improvising jokes committed to memory from a mere Laugh-Out-Loud book, then certainly annoying the shit out of majority of the world's population may need 'special assistance.'

Enter the ditz of the sophomores, Kory Anders – the girl who has everything but a clue.

At least the puree-covered gypsy had the senselessness of the party to thank for, had the people not been indulged in dancing their asses off she would have gotten their attention, brought about the loud squeal of the younger redhead.

Having been adapted to the 5'8" thirteen-year-old's bubbly antics – intentional or unintentional – Raven muttered something coherent under her breath as she turned away and headed for the exit, the clicking of her sneakers pounding after her retreating figure.

Whatever it was, it was enough to tell Kory, who was clad in an array of boots, tank top, skirt, plus feathers, classified to be 'tickled pink,' in one way or another – that her schoolmate wanted to be alone, whether or not the dark girl accepted her apology.

Who could blame someone like Raven Roth? Obviously this wasn't one of the nights wherein she could just let tangible tension get the best of her.

As if losing her most prized possession wasn't enough to cause her sanity to run low – among the many comments and questions chasing themselves around the inside of her mind's whirlpool, swimming with panic and paranoia, none even seemed fitting.

Walking past the hallways, she let her body guide herself as she felt her weight shift from one foot to another, almost as if she were a zombie, not caring her mind would take her to.

Her subconsciously-intended destination came to a close, and her feet picked up a faster pace, so sudden the jewelry around her neck and hands resounded against each other, providing Raven a momentary lapse of all things making her blood boil.

The next thing she knew she found herself where she wanted to be – the girls' bathroom.

The girl grunted as she turned to see her reflection, taking note of the wrinkles and frown lines disrupting the calmness her features were showing.

Her gaze drifted to the candy-colored stains forming irregular blotchy versions of polka dots on her laced peasant blouse.

Soon enough she stripped the particular article off, only to find herself staring sheepishly at an uncanny tank top worn by a fifteen-year-old figure in the mirror.

Sighing with a thought she tossed it near the sink and proceeded to splash her face with water, desperately trying to wash the stress away.

As the faucet squeaked, stopping the rushing water, her hands suddenly acquired minds of their own, while she wiped her wet features with the clothing.

"You do know using your blouse as a rag isn't the best way to thank your mom for letting you borrow it?"

The girl slightly jumped at the unexpected second opinion. Using her sense of hearing to guide her eyes to the source, she wondered.

No, it wasn't the fact that someone sneaked up on her, but it was more of the fact that the owner spoke with a voice too deep and masculine to belong to a female.

Realizing the presence of an unlikely other, she quickly covered herself with the moist shirt, as a domino mask, yellow cape, red shirt, and green spandex came into view, peeking from the window.

Being the rational incorrigible she is, she opted to burst into a one-girl reign of flaming anger…but Raven almost gasped at what came out as a reply instead,

"You do know that the girl's bathroom isn't the best place to look for Batman?"

**Thanks again for reading; I hope you'll like it. Tell me if I should go on with this fic or not…so that I'll know for sure I'm writing something worth my time…**

**-solitaire parker**


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